SPN, Je t’aimais, je t’aime, je t’aimerai, 1/1, R, Dean/Castiel, 3,500 words
Title: Je t’aimais, je t’aime, je t’aimerai
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel, Sam Winchester (x Sarah Blake)
Warning(s): AU after season five, domesticity, adult situations
Spoiler(s): Vaguely through 5.20, “Swan Song”, though nothing is directly mentioned.
Prompt(s): Written for strangefancy who bid $10 for help_japan.
Word Count: 3,500
Rants: This was difficult to write because I have fallen out of love with both fandom and show. It’ll probably be the last thing I write for SPN. There are no excuses for why this took me so long to write, only that I had a hard time getting back into these characters, and I apologize. Title is French for I loved you, I love you, I will love you.
Summary: It’s just another day.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or anything else that looks even vaguely familiar.
Castiel wakes up to the realization that he’s alone in bed. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that, can hear the shower running and Dean’s off-key singing. Dean’s side of the bed has gone cold, the sheets soft beneath Castiel’s fingers, and Castiel drags Dean’s pillow closer to bury his face in it. It smells like Dean and laundry detergent and Castiel sighs happily.
He stays like that until Back in Black fades to Kashmir fades to Stairway to Heaven, sprawled out on the bed with his face still tucked into Dean’s pillow. He’s too tired to be awake and too awake to go back to sleep and in all the months he’s been here, with Dean, he still doesn’t know how to deal with the lethargy.
”Hey,” Dean says when he comes back into the room. He’s got a towel slung low around his hips, his skin tan with an explosion of freckles across his shoulders from working as a mechanic. He crawls onto the bed behind Castiel, propping himself up on an elbow and slinging an arm around Castiel’s waist.
They kiss, but it’s close mouthed and dry because Castiel hasn’t brushed his teeth. Castiel really doesn’t mind.
Dean’s fingers skim under the hem of the Led Zeppelin shirt Castiel stole, because it’s soft and smells like Dean and is good to sleep in, and he traces small circles just below Castiel’s belly button. “What are your plans for the day?”
Castiel rolls onto his back so he can actually look up at Dean. “I have a shift at the bookstore this afternoon,” he says. His fingers skim along Dean's side, tracing familiar lines and scars, before he tugs at the towel loosely.
”I have to get ready for work,” Dean says, but instead of brushing Castiel’s hand away, he covers it with his own. He presses a kiss to the corner of Castiel’s mouth and smiles. “Hold onto that train of thought until I get home.”
”What if Sam is back tonight?” Castiel asks. He tips his head back, angling for another kiss, and he smiles when Dean presses their lips together again softly.
”He knows how to make himself scarce,” Dean replies, smirking. He kisses Castiel again, and once more on the tip of his nose, before he sits up and stretches and groans. “Besides, he’s got himself a lady friend.”
Castiel watches silently, tugging at Dean’s towel again. It comes undone easily enough and Castiel takes a minute to admire the stretch and pull of Dean’s skin as he pushes away from Castiel and climbs off of the bed. “Should I order takeout for dinner?”
”Nah,” Dean says, shaking his head. He roots through drawers and the closet, pulling out clothes and getting dressed slowly, humming under his breath. “I’ll cook something when I get home.”
”Okay.” Castiel pushes himself up onto his elbows, cocking his head to the side as he watches Dean with a small smile.
”Don’t stay in bed all day,” Dean says. He snags the towel off of the sheets, shaking it in Castiel’s direction. “That’s only acceptable if we’re both doing it. Naked.”
Castiel scoffs, and smiles wider. “Go to work, Dean.”
”I’ll see you tonight,” Dean replies. He ducks down to kiss Castiel again, but he’s backing away before Castiel can react. He makes it to the doorway before he turns around to look at Castiel again. “Oh, and if Bobby calls and asks, I got some time off in late June so we can go visit.”
”Work, Dean,” Castiel says, pursing his lips to try and hide his smile.
”Stop trying to get rid of me!” Dean laughs, but he slips out of the bedroom and Castiel flops back onto the mattress to listen to Dean bang around the house, gathering stuff for work. It’s only a few minutes until the front door slams shut and Castiel hears the familiar hum of the Impala as the ignition clicks over.
When the sound of the Impala fades away and Dean is gone, Castiel closes his eyes and sucks in a breath. For ten seconds, he enjoys the soft whirr from the ceiling fan and the smooth sheets and the pillow that always smells like Dean. When it’s over, Castiel rolls out of bed and makes his across the bedroom to go take a shower.
In the morning, Castiel likes to do chores. Scratch that, Castiel finds doing chores absolutely deplorable. He likes living in a clean home, but Sam isn’t around much these days and Dean is apparently physically incapable of cleaning up after himself. It gives Castiel something to do though, something to kill time with while he waits for Dean to return to him or for his shift at the bookstore, so he just sucks up the annoyances and sets to it.
Cleaning is mind numbing in a good way. Castiel doesn’t have to focus on anything but scraping the dishes clean before he tucks them into the dishwasher, wiping stains from counters and vacuuming the floor. It gives Castiel reason and time to not think, to just accept that he is where he is and lose himself in the moment.
Which might actually have something to do with why the washing machine suddenly explodes with a rush of water and soap spuds when Castiel is trying to fold towels.
He startles, staring at the machine in confusion as it keeps vomiting soap and water and backs out of the laundry room. There’s a concerning hum coming from the machine and Castiel is fumbling through his pockets to find his cellphone to call Dean. This, this is outside Castiel’s pay grade. He has no idea what to do in a situation like this and if anyone does, it’s Dean.
Only, Castiel’s phone isn’t in his pocket; it’s back in the bedroom. To get to it, Castiel has to cross the rush of water rapidly flooding into the hallway and drenching the carpet.
And suddenly, Sam is by Castiel’s side, cursing under his breath. The carpet squelches when he steps on it and he slips on the tile floor of the laundry room. Still, he moves into the laundry room to turn off the water and yank out the power cord. There’s one last blurp of water, and then everything stops. “Jesus Christ, Cas, what did you do?”
Castiel just blinks in confusion, staring at the washing machine, and then at Sam. “I did not do anything.”
Sam gives Castiel an incredulous look, shaking his head. “Because the washing machine just blew up on its own,” he says. He doesn’t sound accusing. Running his hands through his hair, he almost looks amused. “Are you determined to blow up everything we own, Cas?”
”I did nothing to cause the stove to catch fire,” Castiel scowls. “And there is no proof I had anything to do with the malfunctioning of the garage door.”
”You did blow up the microwave,” Sam points out, not unkindly. He grabs a towel off the stack Castiel was folding and shakes it open. “I’ll help you clean this up.”
Castiel is still scowling, but he accepts a towel when Sam passes it to him and lays it on the carpet to soak up the mess. “Should we call Dean?”
”I’ll call a repairman,” Sam offers. “Dean is going to develop a complex if we keep calling him about malfunctioning machines at the house. He’ll think it’s haunted.”
”There are no signs to point to that conclusion,” Castiel counters. He stands back and watches as Sam mops up the mess in the laundry room, and by the time the tile and carpet are mostly dry, all the towels Castiel just finished washing are a wet mess.
Sam puts them in a hamper to keep them off of the floor, nudging the basket out of the way with his foot. “What will you do without me, Cas?”
”I do not understand the question,” Castiel replies. He picks at his shirt where it’s sticking to his skin before peeling it off and adding it to the top of the pile of wet things.
”I mean,” Sam starts, politely looking away from Castiel. “I was talking to Sarah. We were thinking maybe I should move in with her. Since I spend so much time over there already. It’d give you and Dean more space.”
Castiel just stares at Sam in incomprehension. When the silence stretches on, Sam flashes Castiel a frown. Castiel returns the look. “You are planning to leave us? Is it because of how vocal Dean is when - “
”Ehhh,” Sam says, holding up a hand to silence Castiel. “We’ve talked about this, Cas. No details. It’s not good for my mental health.”
”I apologize,” Castiel says, but it’s more out of habit than anything. He doesn’t really understand or care how it could scar Sam for life, but Dean says he’s supposed to play along. He trails after Sam when Sam moves towards the living room, ignoring the rough feel of wet denim sticking to his skin. “Then why?”
”Don’t get me wrong,” Sam says, glancing at Castiel and smiling, before he crouches down at the coffee table and lugs out the phone book. “As nice as it is to live here with you guys, we can’t stay here together. I think - Sarah and I - we could have a family one day. And we can’t do that, here. Besides, Dean always complains that I get in the way of his sex life.”
”You being here has never stopped Dean and I from fornicating,” Castiel points out.
Sam makes a face. “I know.”
Castiel doesn’t apologize, but Sam doesn’t seem to object. “Your leaving is of your own volition.”
”Yeah,” Sam replies. “Seriously, Cas. Don’t worry about it. I’m not leaving because you and Dean did anything wrong. I don’t even know if I am moving yet. Sarah and I are just debating it at this point.” He looks up at Castiel, sympathetic, and Castiel finds himself nodding in understanding. “We’re cool, Cas.”
Castiel nods again. “I should be getting ready for work,” he says, in lieu of actually answering. He has no idea what to say and Sam has already made up his mind on the matter. Pointless small talk has never been Castiel’s strong suit.
Sam makes a vaguely affirmative noise, turning his attention to the phonebook.
Turning on his heels, Castiel wanders through the house until he reaches his and Dean’s bedroom to pull on clean, dry clothes for work. He has enough time to shower again if he wanted, but decides it was just soapy water and forgoes it altogether.
The dry jeans Castiel tugs on are his own, but he steals a battered AC/DC shirt from Dean’s side of the closet. There are holes along the collar, but it’s soft and warm when Castiel pulls it on. Dean will complain, because Dean always complains, but Castiel knows him well enough to know Dean really doesn’t mind.
With the washing sabotaged, there’s really nothing more for Castiel to do to kill time. Stopping in the living room long enough to tell Sam goodbye, Castiel sets off for work.
Work is decidedly work like. Castiel is pretty much left alone in the back, doing inventory and going over the books. It’s boring, but easy, and passes the time quickly enough. Sometimes, he’ll text Sam or Dean to pass the time, but today he doesn’t feel the need. Today, Castiel is content to tap his pen against his clipboard and try to figure out why nothing adds up the way it should.
The mundane feel of it all makes the closing call a welcome relief when he’s finally ready to go home. Not that Castiel has anything against being in the musty bookshop, but it’s small and doesn’t get much business. Besides, he’d much rather be at home.
Home, where Dean is barefoot and grilling burgers on the back porch when Castiel finds him. He smiles when he sees Castiel, offering him the bottle of beer he was drinking out of. “How was work?”
Castiel sips at Dean’s beer, stepping closer and onto his tiptoes to look over Dean’s shoulder at the cooking meat and balancing himself by grabbing Dean’s shoulder. “Dull,” Castiel says, sipping at the beer again. “Is Sam still here?”
”Yeah, no,” Dean says, shaking his head. He holds out his hand for the bottle, and Castiel passes it back to him. “He was here when I got back, but he left about ten minutes ago to go out with some of his friends. Told me that you blew up the washing machine.”
”I did nothing of the sort,” Castiel scowls. He steps back from Dean, giving him room to flip the burgers over.
”I’m sure you didn’t,” Dean replies, grinning. He reaches over to pat Castiel’s back consolingly and lets his fingers linger, sliding slowly down the curve of Castiel’s spine until they’re just pressed against the small of Castiel’s back.
Castiel lets Dean guide him closer, pressing his face against Dean’s shoulder and smiling. The fingers on the small of his back are warm, and Dean kisses the top of Castiel’s head. “Did Sam talk to you?”
”About moving out?” Dean asks, and Castiel nods against his shoulder. “Yeah. It’ll be good for him.”
”You are okay with this?” Castiel asks. He smiles when Dean wraps his arm around Castiel’s waist, tugging him in close, and Castiel kisses Dean’s shoulder lightly.
”I always knew Sam was going to move out, one day,” Dean replies. He stares down at the burgers, prodding one with his spatula forlornly. “It’s for the best. We’ve spent the last year getting used to being normal, right? It’s good that Sam’s ready to move on.”
”You don’t sound pleased,” Castiel points out.
”He’s my brother, and I love him,” Dean replies, shrugging his shoulders roughly. “I’m always happier when I can keep an eye on him. Do you want to eat out here or inside?”
It’s hardly the most subtle segue ever, but Castiel knows enough to know to let it slide. “I don’t care,” he says. He presses his face into Dean’s shoulder again, inhaling deeply. He can feel Dean’s fingers on his hip, stroking the skin just under the hem of his shirt soothingly, and Castiel focuses on that. “Wherever is fine.”
”Hand me that plate,” Dean says, gesturing with the spatula. He presses a kiss against Castiel’s temple, and lets him go. “We can veg out on the couch and watch Alien or something. Sam shouldn’t be home for a few hours, if at all.”
Castiel hands Dean the plate he asked for, hovering at his side while Dean pulls the burgers off of the grill and turns it off. He accepts the plate when Dean passes it back to him, and he leads the way back into the house with Dean on his heels.
Castiel loves Dean. Even when he’s frustrating and stubborn and being difficult on purpose, Castiel loves him. A lot of that has to do with times like now, when Castiel and Dean are curled up on the couch together, Dean stretched out on his back across the leather and Castiel tucked into his side. Castiel likes the way Dean’s fingers feel when they trace circles into his skin.
”You tired?” Dean asks, when Castiel eyelids are starting to get heavy. Alien had become Die Hard, and Dean’s channel flipping had settled them onto Mythbusters. It’s late. The answer is yes, and Dean knows that.
Castiel gives Dean a pointed look, and he can feel Dean’s chest vibrate with laughter under his cheek. “We can finish this episode, if you want.”
”I’ve already seen it,” Dean says, shrugging a shoulder weakly. He runs his fingers through Castiel’s hair, mussing it up, and smiles. “Come on. I know how grouchy you get if you don’t get a million hours of sleep every night.”
”That is not even possible,” Castiel scowls. He sits up when Dean pushes at his shoulders, stretching his arms up above him and groaning softly. He watches as Dean sits up and does the same, and follows obediently when Dean starts to walk towards the bedroom.
Dean undresses slowly, tossing his clothes to the corner of the room to take care of in the morning. He flashes Castiel a tired smile before he crawls under the covers and stretches across the mattress. He sprawls in the middle of the bed on his back, tucking his arms behind his head and closing his eyes.
For a moment, Castiel is content to just watch Dean make himself comfortable. He takes his time in getting undressed, but unlike Dean, actually makes an effort in dropping his clothes in the hamper. He flicks the light switch when he’s done, and he can find his way to the bed easily, despite the dark. It’s familiar, and he crawls across the mattress until he can curl up at Dean’s side.
There’s a moment where Dean tugs at the covers, pulling them back and away, before he throws them over Castiel and snuggles in close to him from behind. He nuzzles the back of Castiel’s neck, sucking in a sharp breath and sighs happily. “I love you,” Dean whispers, and his fingers trace soft circles below Castiel’s belly button.
Castiel’s breath hitches, and he covers Dean’s hand with his own. “And I you,” he says, pushing Dean’s hand down his stomach.
Dean’s fingers are cold, even under Castiel’s, but it doesn’t stop him from slipping his hand under the hem of Castiel’s boxers. He traces the length of Castiel’s cock slowly, the pads of his fingers barely brushing against him. Dean nuzzles the back of Castiel’s neck lightly, pressing a kiss to the nape lightly. His fingers stroke lightly, teasing, and smirks against Castiel’s neck when his cock starts to swell.
”Dean,” Castiel breathes out, arching his hips up to feel more of Dean’s touch. “Please.” He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, only that he wants more. Castiel wants everything Dean has to offer, every bit of Dean, and he always has.
It’s cold when Dean rolls away from Castiel to fumble for the slick, the space between where Dean is and where he should be daunting. It only takes a second though, and then Dean is back, tucked back up against Castiel. There’s a soft snick of the lube being open, and then he’s tugging Castiel’s boxers out of the way.
Dean’s fingers skim down the length of Castiel’s spine, causing Castiel to shudder in anticipation and he can feel gooseflesh rising. Dean kisses the back of Castiel’s neck, again, and again, muttering words Castiel can’t make out when he presses a finger inside of Castiel slowly. It’s cold and slick, pressing in slow and deep, and Castiel moans at the feel of it. He takes his time in stretching Castiel, pressing in slowly, with one finger, then two. By the time he presses in a third, Castiel is trembling and he’s taken himself in hand, stroking his cock slowly in time with the press of Dean’s fingers.
”Dean,” Castiel says again, his voice breaking. He has no doubts that Dean gets the meaning behind the word, the feelings Castiel still can’t express after all of this time. He whines when Dean pulls his fingers out, instinctively pressing back for more.
”I’ve got you,” Dean murmurs, his lips dragging against the back of Castiel’s neck. He runs his hand down Castiel’s side, a soothing pet, before he hooks a hand under Castiel’s thigh, his knee, forcing his leg up. He pushes into Castiel with a slow roll of his hips, doesn’t stop until he’s buried deep and sucking in a sharp breath and panting wetly against the nape of Castiel’s neck. “Cas.”
Castiel moans softly, reaching behind him to pet Dean’s hip awkwardly. He used to hate this, this slow, lazy sex. He used to think that when it stopped being rough and fast, when Dean stopped leaving bruises, that Dean was bored with him. Now, when Dean is rocking into him with slow, deep thrusts, his breath stuttering and lips pressed against Castiel’s skin, Castiel wonders how he could have ever thought that.
”I can hear you thinking,” Dean groans, his hips snapping forward a little rougher, his cock barely grazing over Castiel’s sweet spot in a way that’s maddening and perfect. His finger strokes the side of Castiel’s knee gently, back and forth, the same hypnotizing pattern he always uses. “Shh,” Dean breathes, kissing Castiel again. “Stay with me.”
The words cause something to bubble up inside of Castiel, something that makes him want to laugh and cry. The implication that Castiel could be anywhere else, would choose to be anywhere other than where Dean is is ridiculous. Castiel is here, in the bed he shares with Dean, pressing back as best he can to meet every lazy thrust of Dean’s hips because there is nowhere in the universe he would rather be. Dean is safe, familiar. Dean is home.
”Cas,” Dean says, a plead, a promise. A single syllable and it’s a reminder of everything that’s good and that Castiel loves, that Dean loves him. “Cas.” Broken, beautiful, perfect, and it’s enough for Castiel to close his eyes, to forget everything beyond this, here, now, to lose himself in this moment with Dean and just be.
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel, Sam Winchester (x Sarah Blake)
Warning(s): AU after season five, domesticity, adult situations
Spoiler(s): Vaguely through 5.20, “Swan Song”, though nothing is directly mentioned.
Prompt(s): Written for strangefancy who bid $10 for help_japan.
Word Count: 3,500
Rants: This was difficult to write because I have fallen out of love with both fandom and show. It’ll probably be the last thing I write for SPN. There are no excuses for why this took me so long to write, only that I had a hard time getting back into these characters, and I apologize. Title is French for I loved you, I love you, I will love you.
Summary: It’s just another day.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or anything else that looks even vaguely familiar.
Castiel wakes up to the realization that he’s alone in bed. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that, can hear the shower running and Dean’s off-key singing. Dean’s side of the bed has gone cold, the sheets soft beneath Castiel’s fingers, and Castiel drags Dean’s pillow closer to bury his face in it. It smells like Dean and laundry detergent and Castiel sighs happily.
He stays like that until Back in Black fades to Kashmir fades to Stairway to Heaven, sprawled out on the bed with his face still tucked into Dean’s pillow. He’s too tired to be awake and too awake to go back to sleep and in all the months he’s been here, with Dean, he still doesn’t know how to deal with the lethargy.
”Hey,” Dean says when he comes back into the room. He’s got a towel slung low around his hips, his skin tan with an explosion of freckles across his shoulders from working as a mechanic. He crawls onto the bed behind Castiel, propping himself up on an elbow and slinging an arm around Castiel’s waist.
They kiss, but it’s close mouthed and dry because Castiel hasn’t brushed his teeth. Castiel really doesn’t mind.
Dean’s fingers skim under the hem of the Led Zeppelin shirt Castiel stole, because it’s soft and smells like Dean and is good to sleep in, and he traces small circles just below Castiel’s belly button. “What are your plans for the day?”
Castiel rolls onto his back so he can actually look up at Dean. “I have a shift at the bookstore this afternoon,” he says. His fingers skim along Dean's side, tracing familiar lines and scars, before he tugs at the towel loosely.
”I have to get ready for work,” Dean says, but instead of brushing Castiel’s hand away, he covers it with his own. He presses a kiss to the corner of Castiel’s mouth and smiles. “Hold onto that train of thought until I get home.”
”What if Sam is back tonight?” Castiel asks. He tips his head back, angling for another kiss, and he smiles when Dean presses their lips together again softly.
”He knows how to make himself scarce,” Dean replies, smirking. He kisses Castiel again, and once more on the tip of his nose, before he sits up and stretches and groans. “Besides, he’s got himself a lady friend.”
Castiel watches silently, tugging at Dean’s towel again. It comes undone easily enough and Castiel takes a minute to admire the stretch and pull of Dean’s skin as he pushes away from Castiel and climbs off of the bed. “Should I order takeout for dinner?”
”Nah,” Dean says, shaking his head. He roots through drawers and the closet, pulling out clothes and getting dressed slowly, humming under his breath. “I’ll cook something when I get home.”
”Okay.” Castiel pushes himself up onto his elbows, cocking his head to the side as he watches Dean with a small smile.
”Don’t stay in bed all day,” Dean says. He snags the towel off of the sheets, shaking it in Castiel’s direction. “That’s only acceptable if we’re both doing it. Naked.”
Castiel scoffs, and smiles wider. “Go to work, Dean.”
”I’ll see you tonight,” Dean replies. He ducks down to kiss Castiel again, but he’s backing away before Castiel can react. He makes it to the doorway before he turns around to look at Castiel again. “Oh, and if Bobby calls and asks, I got some time off in late June so we can go visit.”
”Work, Dean,” Castiel says, pursing his lips to try and hide his smile.
”Stop trying to get rid of me!” Dean laughs, but he slips out of the bedroom and Castiel flops back onto the mattress to listen to Dean bang around the house, gathering stuff for work. It’s only a few minutes until the front door slams shut and Castiel hears the familiar hum of the Impala as the ignition clicks over.
When the sound of the Impala fades away and Dean is gone, Castiel closes his eyes and sucks in a breath. For ten seconds, he enjoys the soft whirr from the ceiling fan and the smooth sheets and the pillow that always smells like Dean. When it’s over, Castiel rolls out of bed and makes his across the bedroom to go take a shower.
In the morning, Castiel likes to do chores. Scratch that, Castiel finds doing chores absolutely deplorable. He likes living in a clean home, but Sam isn’t around much these days and Dean is apparently physically incapable of cleaning up after himself. It gives Castiel something to do though, something to kill time with while he waits for Dean to return to him or for his shift at the bookstore, so he just sucks up the annoyances and sets to it.
Cleaning is mind numbing in a good way. Castiel doesn’t have to focus on anything but scraping the dishes clean before he tucks them into the dishwasher, wiping stains from counters and vacuuming the floor. It gives Castiel reason and time to not think, to just accept that he is where he is and lose himself in the moment.
Which might actually have something to do with why the washing machine suddenly explodes with a rush of water and soap spuds when Castiel is trying to fold towels.
He startles, staring at the machine in confusion as it keeps vomiting soap and water and backs out of the laundry room. There’s a concerning hum coming from the machine and Castiel is fumbling through his pockets to find his cellphone to call Dean. This, this is outside Castiel’s pay grade. He has no idea what to do in a situation like this and if anyone does, it’s Dean.
Only, Castiel’s phone isn’t in his pocket; it’s back in the bedroom. To get to it, Castiel has to cross the rush of water rapidly flooding into the hallway and drenching the carpet.
And suddenly, Sam is by Castiel’s side, cursing under his breath. The carpet squelches when he steps on it and he slips on the tile floor of the laundry room. Still, he moves into the laundry room to turn off the water and yank out the power cord. There’s one last blurp of water, and then everything stops. “Jesus Christ, Cas, what did you do?”
Castiel just blinks in confusion, staring at the washing machine, and then at Sam. “I did not do anything.”
Sam gives Castiel an incredulous look, shaking his head. “Because the washing machine just blew up on its own,” he says. He doesn’t sound accusing. Running his hands through his hair, he almost looks amused. “Are you determined to blow up everything we own, Cas?”
”I did nothing to cause the stove to catch fire,” Castiel scowls. “And there is no proof I had anything to do with the malfunctioning of the garage door.”
”You did blow up the microwave,” Sam points out, not unkindly. He grabs a towel off the stack Castiel was folding and shakes it open. “I’ll help you clean this up.”
Castiel is still scowling, but he accepts a towel when Sam passes it to him and lays it on the carpet to soak up the mess. “Should we call Dean?”
”I’ll call a repairman,” Sam offers. “Dean is going to develop a complex if we keep calling him about malfunctioning machines at the house. He’ll think it’s haunted.”
”There are no signs to point to that conclusion,” Castiel counters. He stands back and watches as Sam mops up the mess in the laundry room, and by the time the tile and carpet are mostly dry, all the towels Castiel just finished washing are a wet mess.
Sam puts them in a hamper to keep them off of the floor, nudging the basket out of the way with his foot. “What will you do without me, Cas?”
”I do not understand the question,” Castiel replies. He picks at his shirt where it’s sticking to his skin before peeling it off and adding it to the top of the pile of wet things.
”I mean,” Sam starts, politely looking away from Castiel. “I was talking to Sarah. We were thinking maybe I should move in with her. Since I spend so much time over there already. It’d give you and Dean more space.”
Castiel just stares at Sam in incomprehension. When the silence stretches on, Sam flashes Castiel a frown. Castiel returns the look. “You are planning to leave us? Is it because of how vocal Dean is when - “
”Ehhh,” Sam says, holding up a hand to silence Castiel. “We’ve talked about this, Cas. No details. It’s not good for my mental health.”
”I apologize,” Castiel says, but it’s more out of habit than anything. He doesn’t really understand or care how it could scar Sam for life, but Dean says he’s supposed to play along. He trails after Sam when Sam moves towards the living room, ignoring the rough feel of wet denim sticking to his skin. “Then why?”
”Don’t get me wrong,” Sam says, glancing at Castiel and smiling, before he crouches down at the coffee table and lugs out the phone book. “As nice as it is to live here with you guys, we can’t stay here together. I think - Sarah and I - we could have a family one day. And we can’t do that, here. Besides, Dean always complains that I get in the way of his sex life.”
”You being here has never stopped Dean and I from fornicating,” Castiel points out.
Sam makes a face. “I know.”
Castiel doesn’t apologize, but Sam doesn’t seem to object. “Your leaving is of your own volition.”
”Yeah,” Sam replies. “Seriously, Cas. Don’t worry about it. I’m not leaving because you and Dean did anything wrong. I don’t even know if I am moving yet. Sarah and I are just debating it at this point.” He looks up at Castiel, sympathetic, and Castiel finds himself nodding in understanding. “We’re cool, Cas.”
Castiel nods again. “I should be getting ready for work,” he says, in lieu of actually answering. He has no idea what to say and Sam has already made up his mind on the matter. Pointless small talk has never been Castiel’s strong suit.
Sam makes a vaguely affirmative noise, turning his attention to the phonebook.
Turning on his heels, Castiel wanders through the house until he reaches his and Dean’s bedroom to pull on clean, dry clothes for work. He has enough time to shower again if he wanted, but decides it was just soapy water and forgoes it altogether.
The dry jeans Castiel tugs on are his own, but he steals a battered AC/DC shirt from Dean’s side of the closet. There are holes along the collar, but it’s soft and warm when Castiel pulls it on. Dean will complain, because Dean always complains, but Castiel knows him well enough to know Dean really doesn’t mind.
With the washing sabotaged, there’s really nothing more for Castiel to do to kill time. Stopping in the living room long enough to tell Sam goodbye, Castiel sets off for work.
Work is decidedly work like. Castiel is pretty much left alone in the back, doing inventory and going over the books. It’s boring, but easy, and passes the time quickly enough. Sometimes, he’ll text Sam or Dean to pass the time, but today he doesn’t feel the need. Today, Castiel is content to tap his pen against his clipboard and try to figure out why nothing adds up the way it should.
The mundane feel of it all makes the closing call a welcome relief when he’s finally ready to go home. Not that Castiel has anything against being in the musty bookshop, but it’s small and doesn’t get much business. Besides, he’d much rather be at home.
Home, where Dean is barefoot and grilling burgers on the back porch when Castiel finds him. He smiles when he sees Castiel, offering him the bottle of beer he was drinking out of. “How was work?”
Castiel sips at Dean’s beer, stepping closer and onto his tiptoes to look over Dean’s shoulder at the cooking meat and balancing himself by grabbing Dean’s shoulder. “Dull,” Castiel says, sipping at the beer again. “Is Sam still here?”
”Yeah, no,” Dean says, shaking his head. He holds out his hand for the bottle, and Castiel passes it back to him. “He was here when I got back, but he left about ten minutes ago to go out with some of his friends. Told me that you blew up the washing machine.”
”I did nothing of the sort,” Castiel scowls. He steps back from Dean, giving him room to flip the burgers over.
”I’m sure you didn’t,” Dean replies, grinning. He reaches over to pat Castiel’s back consolingly and lets his fingers linger, sliding slowly down the curve of Castiel’s spine until they’re just pressed against the small of Castiel’s back.
Castiel lets Dean guide him closer, pressing his face against Dean’s shoulder and smiling. The fingers on the small of his back are warm, and Dean kisses the top of Castiel’s head. “Did Sam talk to you?”
”About moving out?” Dean asks, and Castiel nods against his shoulder. “Yeah. It’ll be good for him.”
”You are okay with this?” Castiel asks. He smiles when Dean wraps his arm around Castiel’s waist, tugging him in close, and Castiel kisses Dean’s shoulder lightly.
”I always knew Sam was going to move out, one day,” Dean replies. He stares down at the burgers, prodding one with his spatula forlornly. “It’s for the best. We’ve spent the last year getting used to being normal, right? It’s good that Sam’s ready to move on.”
”You don’t sound pleased,” Castiel points out.
”He’s my brother, and I love him,” Dean replies, shrugging his shoulders roughly. “I’m always happier when I can keep an eye on him. Do you want to eat out here or inside?”
It’s hardly the most subtle segue ever, but Castiel knows enough to know to let it slide. “I don’t care,” he says. He presses his face into Dean’s shoulder again, inhaling deeply. He can feel Dean’s fingers on his hip, stroking the skin just under the hem of his shirt soothingly, and Castiel focuses on that. “Wherever is fine.”
”Hand me that plate,” Dean says, gesturing with the spatula. He presses a kiss against Castiel’s temple, and lets him go. “We can veg out on the couch and watch Alien or something. Sam shouldn’t be home for a few hours, if at all.”
Castiel hands Dean the plate he asked for, hovering at his side while Dean pulls the burgers off of the grill and turns it off. He accepts the plate when Dean passes it back to him, and he leads the way back into the house with Dean on his heels.
Castiel loves Dean. Even when he’s frustrating and stubborn and being difficult on purpose, Castiel loves him. A lot of that has to do with times like now, when Castiel and Dean are curled up on the couch together, Dean stretched out on his back across the leather and Castiel tucked into his side. Castiel likes the way Dean’s fingers feel when they trace circles into his skin.
”You tired?” Dean asks, when Castiel eyelids are starting to get heavy. Alien had become Die Hard, and Dean’s channel flipping had settled them onto Mythbusters. It’s late. The answer is yes, and Dean knows that.
Castiel gives Dean a pointed look, and he can feel Dean’s chest vibrate with laughter under his cheek. “We can finish this episode, if you want.”
”I’ve already seen it,” Dean says, shrugging a shoulder weakly. He runs his fingers through Castiel’s hair, mussing it up, and smiles. “Come on. I know how grouchy you get if you don’t get a million hours of sleep every night.”
”That is not even possible,” Castiel scowls. He sits up when Dean pushes at his shoulders, stretching his arms up above him and groaning softly. He watches as Dean sits up and does the same, and follows obediently when Dean starts to walk towards the bedroom.
Dean undresses slowly, tossing his clothes to the corner of the room to take care of in the morning. He flashes Castiel a tired smile before he crawls under the covers and stretches across the mattress. He sprawls in the middle of the bed on his back, tucking his arms behind his head and closing his eyes.
For a moment, Castiel is content to just watch Dean make himself comfortable. He takes his time in getting undressed, but unlike Dean, actually makes an effort in dropping his clothes in the hamper. He flicks the light switch when he’s done, and he can find his way to the bed easily, despite the dark. It’s familiar, and he crawls across the mattress until he can curl up at Dean’s side.
There’s a moment where Dean tugs at the covers, pulling them back and away, before he throws them over Castiel and snuggles in close to him from behind. He nuzzles the back of Castiel’s neck, sucking in a sharp breath and sighs happily. “I love you,” Dean whispers, and his fingers trace soft circles below Castiel’s belly button.
Castiel’s breath hitches, and he covers Dean’s hand with his own. “And I you,” he says, pushing Dean’s hand down his stomach.
Dean’s fingers are cold, even under Castiel’s, but it doesn’t stop him from slipping his hand under the hem of Castiel’s boxers. He traces the length of Castiel’s cock slowly, the pads of his fingers barely brushing against him. Dean nuzzles the back of Castiel’s neck lightly, pressing a kiss to the nape lightly. His fingers stroke lightly, teasing, and smirks against Castiel’s neck when his cock starts to swell.
”Dean,” Castiel breathes out, arching his hips up to feel more of Dean’s touch. “Please.” He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, only that he wants more. Castiel wants everything Dean has to offer, every bit of Dean, and he always has.
It’s cold when Dean rolls away from Castiel to fumble for the slick, the space between where Dean is and where he should be daunting. It only takes a second though, and then Dean is back, tucked back up against Castiel. There’s a soft snick of the lube being open, and then he’s tugging Castiel’s boxers out of the way.
Dean’s fingers skim down the length of Castiel’s spine, causing Castiel to shudder in anticipation and he can feel gooseflesh rising. Dean kisses the back of Castiel’s neck, again, and again, muttering words Castiel can’t make out when he presses a finger inside of Castiel slowly. It’s cold and slick, pressing in slow and deep, and Castiel moans at the feel of it. He takes his time in stretching Castiel, pressing in slowly, with one finger, then two. By the time he presses in a third, Castiel is trembling and he’s taken himself in hand, stroking his cock slowly in time with the press of Dean’s fingers.
”Dean,” Castiel says again, his voice breaking. He has no doubts that Dean gets the meaning behind the word, the feelings Castiel still can’t express after all of this time. He whines when Dean pulls his fingers out, instinctively pressing back for more.
”I’ve got you,” Dean murmurs, his lips dragging against the back of Castiel’s neck. He runs his hand down Castiel’s side, a soothing pet, before he hooks a hand under Castiel’s thigh, his knee, forcing his leg up. He pushes into Castiel with a slow roll of his hips, doesn’t stop until he’s buried deep and sucking in a sharp breath and panting wetly against the nape of Castiel’s neck. “Cas.”
Castiel moans softly, reaching behind him to pet Dean’s hip awkwardly. He used to hate this, this slow, lazy sex. He used to think that when it stopped being rough and fast, when Dean stopped leaving bruises, that Dean was bored with him. Now, when Dean is rocking into him with slow, deep thrusts, his breath stuttering and lips pressed against Castiel’s skin, Castiel wonders how he could have ever thought that.
”I can hear you thinking,” Dean groans, his hips snapping forward a little rougher, his cock barely grazing over Castiel’s sweet spot in a way that’s maddening and perfect. His finger strokes the side of Castiel’s knee gently, back and forth, the same hypnotizing pattern he always uses. “Shh,” Dean breathes, kissing Castiel again. “Stay with me.”
The words cause something to bubble up inside of Castiel, something that makes him want to laugh and cry. The implication that Castiel could be anywhere else, would choose to be anywhere other than where Dean is is ridiculous. Castiel is here, in the bed he shares with Dean, pressing back as best he can to meet every lazy thrust of Dean’s hips because there is nowhere in the universe he would rather be. Dean is safe, familiar. Dean is home.
”Cas,” Dean says, a plead, a promise. A single syllable and it’s a reminder of everything that’s good and that Castiel loves, that Dean loves him. “Cas.” Broken, beautiful, perfect, and it’s enough for Castiel to close his eyes, to forget everything beyond this, here, now, to lose himself in this moment with Dean and just be.